Sun Hands
by ZombieParade
Summary: In which Gamzee offers Karkat a little pick me up and a happy and horny Karkat is the result. Also, I suck at summaries.


It's a Thursday afternoon and you find yourself a little grumpy (more than you usually are anyway) after a shit day at school. You and your best friend sit on his bed by the open window. Smooth indie music drifts through the room and you quietly watch as he packs his second bowl of the evening. When he's satisfied, he smiles and brings the purple swirled glass pipe to his lips. He flicks his cheap plastic lighter and brings it to the lip, sucking the flame into bowl and you can't help but be mesmerized by the way the fire seemingly pours downwards. You hear him inhale deeply before pulling off of the piece. The Capricorn looks over at you and smiles; you realize he's caught you staring.

"Wanna hit, motherfucker?" His voice sounds choked, trying to keep the smoke in his lungs as he speaks to you. You look between him and the piece he hold out to you, screaming internally at yourself when you realize that you were actually considering it. It looked so enjoyable, after all; he always looked so calm and happy after he smoked. "'s some good shit, man." He sings and you let out a reluctant sigh.

"Fucking…fine…" You take the hospitality and eye it over, as if inspecting it to make sure it won't hurt you. He hands you the lighter and your body buzzes a bit, trying to hide your excitement at your first time doing something like this.  
You push the pipe between your lips and flick the lighter, mirroring how you'd seen Gamzee do it all these times. Feeling for the carburetor with your thumb, you plug the hole before bringing the flame to bowl and taking an experimental breath.

The first thing you notice is the taste and then you're doubling over and coughing violently as your lungs try desperately to expel the smoke. Gamzee quickly scoots over to you and pats your back as your body shakes. Your throat burns a bit and when you talk again, your voice is hoarse.

"Shit!" You bark out, "How the fuck are you able to do that?!" As your coughs die down, you realize that he's rubbing circles on your back. And laughing. "Shut the hell up!" an elbow to the ribs just makes him laugh harder. After a minute, his chuckles quiet and he speaks up again.

"Wanna try something?"

"Not if it's going to be like that!" you manage, still feeling the sting in your chest and throat. "That fucking sucked."

"Nah, man, makes it easier on your lung." You look at him cynically for a moment, deciding whether or not to trust him on this. Finally, you nod.

"Yeah, alright…what is it?" His face lights up and he adjusts himself so he sits in front of you.

"It's called a "shotgun"." He starts factually. "I take a hit." He pantomimes the action, "and pass it to you; I breathe out the smoke, you breathe it in."  
You feel your face heat up at the implied intimacy of it and look down to hide the blush. Though one side of you yells, "This is fucking stupid," the other urges you towards him. Eventually, your eyes move from the lint on his sheets to return to his face. At the subtle puppy-dog eyes, you growl quietly to yourself.

"Okay."

Your eyes follow the bowl to his lips and his cheeks hallow a bit as he sucks the smoke into his lungs. He motions for you to part your lips. You keep your gaze on his lips, unable to look at his eyes, as he brings his face an inch or two from yours. Soon there's a steady flow of smoke kissing your lips and you invite it into your lungs. You immediately notice the difference as it fills your chest. The stream comes to an end as the source takes in fresh oxygen, tapping his chest and saying, "Hold it in." You count to ten, until holding your breath becomes uncomfortable, before exhaling. You watch as the cloud floats from your mouth and you can't help but give a rare smile at the whole situation. In your peripherals you can see the sparking of a lighter as Gamzee goes for another hit.

"You want another, bro?" He asks through a lungful of smoke.

"Sure," You shrug, decidedly not at all minding the closeness, or illegality, of the situation.

He leans in again and the process repeats: lean in, inhale, hold, and exhale.

Then it starts again.

Then again.

And again.

And again.

You can feel your stress and bitterness floating away with every puffy cloud. It's nice, you decide, very nice. You look over at Gamzee to see him inspect the contents of the bowl.

"This one's almost done, man, but I think we could get one more hit with the shit in there. You up for one more?" He looks over at you, eyes glossy and lidded slightly, goofy smile on his face, and you nod. He laughs a bit, "You know, motherfucker, I'm surprised you've been able to take this much,'s some strong shit." Pause. "But you've been quiet as shit over there, bro, you alright?" His eyebrows rise when you let out an uncharacteristic giggle.

"Yeah, I'm fine." The chuckle in your voice shakes the words. Your head feels thick and foggy when you turn it to see him shaking his own and laughing quietly. He flicks the side of the bowl twice and when he brings the glass to his mouth, you find yourself changing your focus to his face: the way his eyes lid lightly as his cheeks hollow, the way his lips seem to purse when he inhales as if lightly kissing the piece. Your gaze sticks itself to his mouth as he pulls away again and smiles, flicking the leftover ash from the bowl and setting it down on the window sill. He gestures a wave towards himself and you lean forward, hovering your lips a couple centimeters away from his and welcoming the thick smoke into your lungs once more. When your chest is full, you exhale gently and a moment later, you find his lips pressing against yours. You tense for a minute and he laughs against your mouth.

There's no time to let yourself feel conflicted before you're kissing him back. It's a little messy but he doesn't seem to mind and sooner than you expected, his tongue is in your mouth and his teeth at your lip. It's your turn not to mind. You pull him closer, practically half sitting on his lap and attacking his lips with yours. He sucks at your tongue and scrapes it with his teeth, making you moan. Your arms move around his neck as he slowly pushes your back to the bed, pressing his hips to yours.  
Your legs are tangled and you feel really fuzzy. You start laughing; you can't help it. It doesn't slow things down really, though, and he laughs with you as he nips your neck. Your laughs slowly fade into purrs when he swipes his tongue over your Adams apple and you let your hands travel down his back. He continues grinding against you and you feel your dick twitch in your pants. You pull on his hoodie a bit, trying to get it off. He get's the message and helps you, of course getting his head stuck and once again, you're all giggles.  
He decides, apparently, that while he's at it, he might as well take off his shirt.

Wow, he looks really nice shirtless. Like...really nice. His arms look really...not big, he's not totally ripped but he looks really... firm. You reach to test out how hard they are. He's a good sport and chuckles as he flexes for you. A goofy smile spreads across your face and you move down to his chest. When you look up at him expectantly, he laughs again and flexes each measly pec under your hands. He goes back and forth until you laugh and move down to his flat stomach. Your eyes stick to the strip of hair that trails into his jeans and you blush violently. There's a slight bulge in his jeans and you can tell that he's half hard under the denim. The fucks you give take a plummet as you move to unbutton his jeans. As you pull down the zipper he leans back down and takes your lips with his, lips smacking when he pulls back, pulling your shirt over your head. He throws it across the room and as you follow it with your eyes, his lips return to your neck, then your shoulder. They go down your chest and nip down your stomach and they stop at your stomach with a hum. You feel a small jerk and hey look, your pants are open.

Yep, and there goes his hand.

Down your pants.

Oh hey, that feels nice.

He strokes you inside your boxers and you shiver, moaning softly. Your hand immediately goes to the front of his hands, slipping inside and giving his light squeeze. He groans and it's the best sound you think you've ever heard. So you do it again, pulling down and back up. He groans louder, and hey this is working. You buck against his fist and pull him in for some more sloppy make outs.

Your lips slide together and everything feels wonderful; everything feels wonderful and fuzzy and soft. You're pulled from your thoughts as Gamzee twists his wrist in just a fashion that you moan loudly into his mouth. Your stroking speeds up and he bites at your lips and tongue, panting a little. He knocks your hand away after a minute and grabs his length in his fist with yours, sliding his dick against yours and taking your breath away.

Both of your hands fly to wrap around his neck and you pant as he grinds against you and you against him. You're so close and it hasn't even been that long. There's no time to be embarrassed. Within moments you're coming hard onto his hand and both of your torsos. He strokes himself a few more times before adding to the mess on your stomach and your too blissed out looking at his face to be mad or grossed out. He has enough of a mind to lay down beside of you and not on top of you. You really appreciate that.

But he still came on you, so you clean it up with his hoodie.

Take that, asshole.

Hah, small victories.

When you're "clean", you turn to him and give a rare and small smile. He returns it with a lazy grin and a laugh. Once a-fucking-gain, you're thrown into a fit of giggles. Manly giggles.

At least that's what you tell yourself.


End file.
